


and all the stars burned out (the day you left)

by sleepicide



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Big Brother Bucky Barnes, Blind Character, Blindness, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Peter, Irondad, Peter Parker Has a Crush, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Avengers, Protective Peter Parker, Regret, Sad Ending, Service Dogs, Super Soldier Serum, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Unresolved Emotional Tension, they're not actually related
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 16:47:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20745461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepicide/pseuds/sleepicide
Summary: When Peter first meets her, it’s nearing the end of September and he’s Spider-Man, and she’s fumbling with a dog’s vest, grumbling as her fingers stumble around the vest’s velcro.or;Peter meets a girl, and everything is nice, until it isn't.





	and all the stars burned out (the day you left)

**Author's Note:**

> i regret nothing. i am a professional angst writer.  
hope you guys enjoy this story!  
much love,  
carson xx

When Peter first meets her, it’s nearing the end of September and he’s Spider-Man, and she’s fumbling with a dog’s vest, grumbling as her fingers stumble around the vest’s velcro.

She’s muttering about “stupid fucking kids” with dark hair thrown up in a bun haphazardly, even darker eyes narrowed and slightly glazed over. The sides and the back of her head is shaved close to her head, fading as it gets closer to the edge of her hair. Her oversized hoodie isn’t exactly odd for the transition period of summer-to-fall, but Peter thinks the pants are a bit overkill.

He’s not even sure why she caught his attention, but he slings down beside her nonetheless, and reaches out to touch her shoulder. He snatches it back a millisecond before the large german shepherd clamps down on his hand, and the girl sighs, exasperated.

“I can’t make friends like my therapist told me to if you keep trying to bite everyone who touches me.” she drawls, sounding completely done with this dog’s shit.

The dog makes a grumbling noise, and she glares at him, “Shush it, Weylyn.” she stands, and her knees make sickening _ pop! _ sounds as she does. Peter winces, and the girl turns, stares him dead in his face, and rolls her neck. It was like she had just stepped on bubble wrap, and the vigilante has to physically stop himself from recoiling. Then, just to bug him further, it seems, she rolls it the other way, and the same results are produced.

“That doesn’t sound healthy.” the boy says, and she shrugs, pushing her glasses further up her nose.

“Neither do my coping mechanisms.” she quips, and then she’s turning and walking away.

Peter lets her.

  
  


The second time he sees her, she’s in Stark Towers, asleep, sprawled on a couch, ratty Vans resting right beside the piece of furniture. The larger-than-average dog is laying on her, almost her entire legs and torso covered. Weylyn’s (that’s what she called him last time, so he figures it must be the service dog’s name.) chin rests on her collarbone, and when the spider boy swings in through the window, the dog’s lips curl, and his fur bristled. The hand in the fur of his neck tugs, just slightly, and he calms down again.

Peter watches, taking in the scene. He blinks a few times, before ripping off his mask to try to piece it together.

“Crazy, huh? She just showed up here. Apparently she’s a distant cousin of Tony’s. Even more apparent, they don't like each other all that much.” Clint hums, as he sips a cup of coffee. Peter gives a hum.

“I met her like, three weeks ago. Her dog tried to bite me.”  _ he _ can even hear the pout in his voice, and Clint laughs.

“Banner tried to throw a cover over her because she was shivering, thing nearly ripped him to pieces. Jumped on top of her and he’s laid there ever since. He’s fearless, looked at Natasha like she was an ant.” he scratches behind his ear idly, and Peter nods.

“Okay, I’m gonna go talk to Mr. Stark.” he says, and Clint gives a hum and a wave, watching the kid.

He realizes that it’s because she might be dangerous, but he nearly snorts at the revelation. She’s a civvy, she _ can’t _ be dangerous.

  
  


He eats those words when he walks into the training room, and she’s going head to head with Captain America.

She’s in just a sports bra, joggers, and sneakers (all Stark Industries™ products). She moves with deadly grace, like she’s dancing. She throws a fake punch, and when Steve goes to dodge it, she jabs him in the gut.

The blond man kicks out, and Peter watches in abstract horror as she braces her feet on the ground, and smirks at the man, teeth gritted as the kick connects with her thigh.

“Gonna have to do better than that, popsicle.” and then she grabs his shin and  _ flips him. _

Steve lets out a grunt as he hits the ground, glaring back up at the teen.

She just raises her brows, unimpressed, before stretching, reaching her arms over her head, “I’m hungry, I’m d-”

Steve lunges, and punches her in the stomach.

Neither of them move, and she slowly turns her gaze to the man, her face blank.

“What the fuck.” he mutters, retracting his hand, and she hums.

“How’d that work out for you?” she says, folding her arms over her chest.

“It was like punching a wall, how-”

“I’m hungry, I’m gonna make Tony order me Taco Bell, you want some, Spidey?” she asks, turning her head to look at him

Peter, belatedly, realizes he’s still in the suit, and his face is uncovered.

He furrows his brows, her eyes are unfocused, glazed over.

“I, uh, sure.” he stumbles out, and she nods, grabbing Steve’s shirt, and slipping it on.

“Hey, that’s mine.” said super soldier points out, and she turns back at him.

“I know. I don’t want to wear my hoodie, I’m hot.” she explains, before walking out the door, brushing by Peter slightly.

“That.. kid.” he frowns, and Peter runs his hands through his hair.

“You’re telling me.”

  
  


The next time Peter meets the girl, who he still doesn’t know the name of, she’s in Tony’s lab, tinkering with a leg, similar to Bucky’s arm. Wylynis standing right beside her, as if trying to brace her..

Oh.  _ Oh.  _ He glances at her right pants leg, which is considerably less full than the last time he saw it. She glances up, not turning her head towards him, catching Peter’s gaze, and the teen flushes at being caught.

“Want to come help or are you just gonna stand there?” she asks, not rude or unkind, before she turns her gaze back to the plate of the leg sitting on the table. Her fingers are slightly clumsy, but they work with practice and familiarity.

“Oh, uh, sure.” her mutters, coming to stand beside her, and he notices her trembling as he gets closer. “You can lean on me, if you want.”

She pauses from moving a wire, before she nods, bracing her hip against his. The 16 year old flushes, before he tries to focus on the metal leg sitting on the table.

“Ryth.”

“What?”

“That’s my name, Ryth.” she says, giving him a small grin, and he beams, nodding.

“So what’s the problem with it?” he asks, and the girl pushes her glasses up her nose again,and quickly throws her hair up in a bun.

“It glitched out.” she says, and at Peter’s prying look, she sighs, before turning her face to him fully. He lets out a small hiss at the nearly-black bruise blooming on her jaw, “I accidently kicked Bucky, and he reacted on instinct, but at least my bones are already healed.” she chirps.

He can’t tell if she’s joking.

  
  
  


They quickly grow closer, becoming better and better friends, despite her standoffishness with Mr. Stark, since the feeling was mutual.

When he sees her this time, there’s no reason for it. It’s 2:48 am, and she’s in her room that Mr. Stark gave her, sitting up on the bed as she types furiously on her laptop, prosthetic discarded on the floor next to her.

“Hey, whatcha doing?” he asks, swinging in, and she slams the computer closed.

“Nothing.” she answers, cooly. Peter gives a skeptical ‘uh-huh’ in response, to which she rolls her eyes.

He collapses on the bed beside her, deciding not to grill her anymore about it. He pouts up at her, huffing when she doesn’t turn her head to look at him, but really just beside him. She chuckles, turning her seemingly permanent-glazed-gaze on him, grinning slightly.

“How was patrol?” she teases as she sets her laptop on the bedside table, and he groans exaggeratedly.

“Boring. It was like everyone was taking a break from crime, which, good thing, but boring for me, you know?” she nods, and Peter laid his head on her left thigh. She cardes her fingers through his hair, closing her eyes as she rests her head on the bed frame behind her.

Peter hums, contently, before letting his eyes close, too.

“Where’s Lyn?” he asked, sleepily, and he heard her hum.

“He wanted to go and cuddle with Bucky.”

Peter snorts, “And he let him?”   
  


“Do you see him here?” she shoots back, and the boy chuckles.

If Peter thinks she has one of the most beautiful smiles he’s ever seen, well, that’s his business.

  
  


It’s November when she goes on her first mission with them, clad in combat boots, baggy cargo pants that are tucked into them, and a form-fitting black turtleneck. Her mask is what Bucky’s used to be like, when he was still The Winter Soldier, the ‘muzzled’ effect only enhanced by the canine-like teeth that she had him put on it.

When she goes to put it on, she pauses, turning to look at Bucky, her brows furrowing as if saying ‘is this okay?’

The former HYDRA soldier is hesitant, but nods, and she smiles, kind and warm, before she snaps it on, pulling her hair up in a bun quickly. Not a second later, the expression drops, blank and perfected. 

Peter didn’t think he’d be into women with crazy super-strength, kickass fighting abilities and enhanced senses, but Ry is constantly proving him otherwise.

_ “Hey, Spidey! Stop drooling over Hyena over there and pay attention!”  _ Clint yells over the comms, and Peter’s gaze immediately snaps away from where he’s been watching said girl lift a bus with ease and chuck it at the group of weird alien-lizard things.

“Sorry, Birdman-numero-uno!” he says, and he hears a few snickers from his nickname for the man.

His gaze is drawn back though, when she gives a roundhouse with her mechanical leg, knocking over multiple baddies at once.

Peter is fucked, really. He never stood a chance.

  
  


When Peter wakes up four days later, Ry is gone, and he’s not sure how he feels about it.

She’s off the radar for three weeks, and when she comes back, her eyes seem more glazed over than usual. Wreylyn is constantly pressed up against her legs, whining low in his throat, and performing DPT whenever she was still enough for him to do so, which was more often than normal.

When he sits beside her, she doesn’t make a move to lean into him, or wrap her arms around him and pull him into her, so he leaned against her instead.

She doesn’t reject it, but she doesn’t welcome it. Almost as if he’d done nothing at all.

He frowns, he’s not sure how much he likes wherever she went for those few weeks.

She’s more clumsy than usual, bumping into the edges of walls more often, catching the corner of the counter with her hip, fumbling when she worked on her leg with wires she used to be able to do with ease.

When he catches her sobbing, chest heaving so hard he thought her lungs were going to shatter her ribs, he says nothing, simply holds her close.

They might not have shattered the bones, but they did so to Peter’s heart, and he truly,  _ truly,  _ felt helpless.

  
  


Freyja is fine after a few days, back to laughing and joking and doing that insanely cute laugh where she throws her head back slightly and the tip of her tongue sticks out through her top and bottom teeth where the natural overbite is. 

She’s wearing high waisted shorts and a hoodie that's no doubt Peter’s, her metal leg glinting in the artificial lights, and cute little socks with cartoon bunnies and carrots on them. Bucky was playfully arguing back and forth with her about who’s prosthetic was better, while they dotted on Lyn where he rested between them.

Despite her being related to Mr. Stark, she looks very similar to Bucky, besides her eye’s color. The hair, their nose shape, even the shape of their lips, down to the design of their prosthetics. He could feel the gears turning in his head, their metal prosthetics looked  _ startlingly  _ similar, almost alarmingly, seeing as HYDRA had-

“If you dont stop staring at her and smiling she’s gonna go blind from how bright it is, kis.” Mr. Stark teased, and Peter flushed, sputtering out a few words.

“Shut up! She’ll hear you.” he whines slightly, glaring halfheartedly at him. The olderman chuckles, grinning fondly at the said girl, who was showering Lyn with love, along with Bucky, even if his love was less _ “Who’s a good boy? It’s you! You’re the good boy, my sweetest boy!”  _ and more  _ “I shall scratch you behind the ear and praise you in russian because I am  _ scary _ and you are, indeed, a good boy.”  _

“She takes after her mom, she was fucking terrifying.” the man shudders, “I swear that woman was made out of metal. I watched her eat a bullet once.”

“What the hell, you watched her mom eat a bullet?” Clint butts in, and, without looking up, Ry also decides to contribute to the conversation.

“Yeah, she did it all the time, took them like mints,” she chirps, and at the following silence, she looks up, eyes glancing around, “What? Is that not normal?”

“No, it’s not.” Bucky says, and she shrugs.

“Huh. Learn something new everyday.” she hums, before going back to coddeling Lyn in affection.

“Woah woah woah, hold on,” Sam interjects, “How did you not know that wasn’t normal?” he asks, therapist voice on, and she blinks, once, twice, three times.

“Well, dad always  _ told  _ me it was normal, so I just assumed-”

“Did you ever eat bullets?” Dr. Banner asks, rasing a brow, and she turns to look at him.

“Well, yeah, once for twi-”

“Kid, no offence or anything, but what the actual fuck.” Mr. Stark said, “We’ve gotta take you to the medbay, that's not normal-”

“I,” her voice cracked, brows furrowed, “I don’t understand? Can you not do that?” She asked,moving from crouching to sitting criss crossed on the floor. Bucky sat beside her, in a similar style, but one leg was stretched out, laying heavily on her calf.

Peter smiled slightly as he realized what the super soldier was doing: he was grounding her, reminding her who exactly she was with.

Mr. Stark sighed, and they all migrated to the couches around the two, “Kid, why don’t you tell us what’s considered ‘normal’ for you, and we’ll go from there.”


End file.
